


Nellopxes

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:16:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rogue Mirkwood plant throws Ori into a heat in Thranduil’s dungeons, much to Dwalin’s dismay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nellopxes

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “When in Mirkwood Ori either accidently eats something he shouldn’t or drinks contaminated water or has a bad reaction to the spider’s venom. Whatever it is, think sex pollen. His skin feels like it’s on fire he’s so aroused and only someone else’s touch seems to make any difference. Thranduil’s elves have seen this kind of a reaction before and go to their king with news that one of the company has been hurt. Either Thranduil is intrigued by the bookish dwarf and decides to care for him himself, or he allows one of the company members to do it. I would prefer either Thorin (the leader of the company should be able to take care of his people), Dwalin (the elves noticed he fought particularly hard when taken away from Ori), or Fili/Kili (his friends/close to his age). Lots of hot sweaty sex, and after lots of cuddling Ori through his embarrassment, even if it was Thranduil taking care of him. Afterwards Ori is allowed to stay in DoYC’s cell just in case there are any other side effects or resurgences of the sex pollen” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/11476.html?thread=22936532#t22936532).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There isn’t much room to pace in the tiny cell, so Dwalin leans against the stone walls and tries to resist splitting his fists open on them. He’s shouted out the bars to no avail, and now his throat’s hoarse and he’s gotten nothing for it. He can still see Ori’s terrified face behind his eyes, flushing red from some toxic plant, draining out all his freckles. He’d reached for Dwalin as the elves dragged him away. Dwalin had reached back, roaring like a caged warg.

And still the heartless guards took poor little Ori, the smallest and least equipped to fight and in the midst of a fever. Dwalin will never forgive them for that. He won’t forgive them for treating Thorin like a common criminal, but most of all, he won’t forgive them for _Ori_. He punches the wall again, too mad to be surprised when his knuckles don’t come back with blood. 

“Are you Dwalin?”

Dwalin’s head jerks around, eyes narrowing at the elf who stands so serenely beyond his bars. It’s the same woman from earlier—the captain of the guards. She looks so _calm_ for all her cruelty, and Dwalin barely manages to snarl, “What’s it to you?”

“I assumed it was you, from how hard you fought when we took the little one. He asks for you.”

“Ori?” Dwalin asks, his anger cutting short. It makes his chest clench to know that Ori’s calling for him, but he doesn’t understand why she’s telling him this. Then, at the confirmation of his name, she fits a long, silver key into the lock of his door, twists, and it springs open. 

She drags the bars wide. Dwalin stares at her. Another elf steps in from the side—the tall, blond one who fought with Glóin in the forest. Against two armed and ready elves, Dwalin knows he doesn’t have much chance of making a run for it, weaponless as he is. But he still considers it. Yet, where would he run? All his friends are still locked away, and Ori... “Where have you taken Ori?” 

Lifting one arched eyebrow, the captain of the guards tells him, “To private chambers. Which is where we are taking you.” She gestures with her arm, indicating for him to come out of the cell, and Dwalin, though begrudgingly, follows.

That dashes any plan at escape. It would be better to be taken to Ori. Assuming that’s really where they’re going. He has no trust for elves. But he also doesn’t have any choice. He follows the woman while the man falls in behind him, down the stone steps of the dungeon, past his friends in their cells. A few of them shoot him looks, but it’s obvious there’s nothing he could do. He would be full of arrows before he got halfway to the keys, and he has no intention of leaving with Ori still in their grasp.

Once they’re out of the dungeons, out of earshot of the other of the other dwarves, the elf in front explains, “When we apprehended you, it was clear to us that your friend had ingested nellopxes leaves, a wild flower known to induce an animal heat in its victims. The mass hormonal imbalance can cause serious damage if not handled, and our king is not a cruel one. We have put your friend in a private room where he may comfortably resolve this.” 

It takes several steps for Dwalin to digest her words. The halls they walk through are tall and mostly scarce, moonlit but still mostly brown with the twisting sides of wood and branches. It would be wise to watch out for escape routes for the future, but it’s difficult not to get swept up in her speech. He never heard of such a thing as ‘nellopxes,’ though he knows well enough what it’s like when an animal goes into heat—the thought of it on Ori makes his face warm. He doesn’t fully believe her, but then, they were warned multiple times that nothing in the forest was edible. Ori should’ve never taken that risk. Dwalin still doesn’t understand, and he asks gruffly, “What’ve I got to do with it?”

The elf looks over her shoulder, eyes studying him curiously, but her steps don’t falter. They turn down another corridor, and she evenly replies, “It affects the body, not the mind. We explained the remedy and asked the little one if there was anyone he desired to be with. We offered our own to alleviate his pain, for though it can be survived and worked through without a partner, that is the more unpleasant road. But he only wished for you. If you do not wish to do such things, you must ask him to choose another, if not to alleviate his pain, than to be with him while he relieves himself.”

Dwalin can guess well enough what ‘such things’ mean. The thought that Ori picked _him_ for that is staggering, and of course he’d agree, but that doesn’t seem right—wouldn’t it be taking advantage? But if someone has to do it... and he certainly doesn’t want to let Ori stay in pain if he can stop it. But Ori asked for him. That must mean that Ori has some say in it—that madness hasn’t clouded his choices that far, and she’s said it doesn’t affect the mind. It still doesn’t seem _right_. But then, very little has been right since they first left Bilbo’s home. 

Dwalin’s shaking his head, trying to clear the turmoil, when the elf abruptly stops before a set of doors. It’s twice as tall as Dwalin is, intricately embroidered and sporting a ribbon loosely draped over the twin handles on either side of the split down the middle. Lifting the ribbon, the elf opens the doors, then steps back to usher Dwalin inside. 

The room is far larger than his cell and the accommodations Dwalin’s had since Erebor’s fall, the room itself and the furniture all made out of the wood, but the four-poster bed draped in rich red sheets and matching floor pillows scattered about the room. Dwalin’s eyes go straight to the mattress, where Ori is sitting right in the middle. All of his clothes are still on, but he looks like he’s burning up inside them, his cheeks redder than his hair and his eyes half-shut, his mouth open. A regal elf with long, white-yellow hair and a crown of branches sits calmly behind him, both hands on Ori’s back. He seems to be _stroking_ Ori, massaging his shoulders and straying up to the bare flesh of his neck and the sides of his face. Ori twitches under the ministration, and his voice keeps breaking into tiny whimpers, but he looks somewhat soothed compared to how he was when they were separated. It takes him a few seconds to turn and spot Dwalin, and then he gasps, reaching forward. 

As soon as he’s climbed beyond the elf’s grasp, he collapses against the mattress, groaning loudly and curling up in a tight ball. His whines are of agony. The elf hurriedly lays his hands along Ori’s sides again, Dwalin already running for the bed. He climbs right onto it, still in his boots, and scoops Ori’s trembling form into his arms. Ori makes a needy noise and clings to him, while the blond elf carefully withdraws. 

Dwalin says no more to him. He doesn’t bother to look at any of the elves. He’s busy cuddling Ori. Without looking, he hears the footsteps, then the faint click of the door, and he knows they’re gone. The dwarves have no business being in an Elven dungeon in the first place, but Dwalin’s at least grateful for this privacy, if not for his sake, than for Ori’s.

In all his heavy knit clothes, Ori feels like a ball of fire. He’s heavy in Dwalin’s lap, but light as far as dwarves go. His hair feels sweaty as it presses against Dwalin’s neck; he’s writhing almost uncontrollably, making sharp, breathless noises that make Dwalin’s crotch stir when it shouldn’t. He can’t help it. He’s always wanted Ori, of course, pretty and sweet and cutely brave, fiercely loyal as he is, always eager to lie next to Dwalin in their too-thin sleeping bags when the night’s cold. But this isn’t how Dwalin imagined them coming together, and the first thing out of his mouth is a quiet, “I’m sorry.” He tentatively lifts his hand into Ori’s hair, petting him to try and sooth him the way the elf did, though Dwalin’s always been better as a warrior than a comfort. He can feel Ori shaking his head. 

“’M sorry,” Ori mumbles, his voice strained and muffled by Dwalin’s neck. “Sorry, Dwalin, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, lad,” Dwalin sighs, meaning it. He shouldn’t have eaten the leaves, but this isn’t a fair punishment. Ori makes a keening sound, and he finally pulls away from Dwalin’s shoulder, though his legs are still sprawled across Dwalin’s lap and his fingers stay clinging to the front of Dwalin’s tunic.

“I’m sorry, Dwalin, I am—they told me what it was, but I didn’t believe them, and they had Óin visit and explain, and I...” He gulps, shaking his head again. His face scrunches up for a moment, as though trying to regain his train of thought, and then his pretty eyes reopen and he goes on, “They said I could have _anyone_ , and they brought in all these elves—even their king!—but I... I thought... if there was a chance...”

“It’s alright,” Dwalin insists, lifting his palm to Ori’s cheek. It’s brighter than a furnace, and Ori _moans_ at the touch, turning to nuzzle into him. Dwalin can feel his own cheeks heating, and he’s sure Ori can feel his arousal. Even though he knows it’s _wrong_ , Ori’s so _beautiful_ , and squirming against him with that desperate plea of a voice—it’s all Dwalin can do to shakily repeat, “You didn’t have a choice...”

“No, Dwalin, you’re not listening,” Ori mutters. But he pauses to lick his lips, like he’s unable to explain. It’s clearly difficult for him to talk, and Dwalin thinks of just _getting on with it_ , but he can’t, not until he’s _sure_ that Ori’s ready. Then Ori reaches up to knit his fingers in the tuft of Dwalin’s beard, tugging it wantonly as he groans, “I do, I want you, not just because of this—the thought of some of the elves they offered was terrifying, or Thorin—they suggested Nori, and I almost fainted! But you... Dwalin, I’m sorry... I really, _really_ want you—I have since I first saw you—but you’re highborn, and strong, and I-I thought maybe if I waited until we had the treasure at the end, and I could be rich too, I could be good enough—”

Shocked, Dwalin has to cut in to insist, grabbing both sides of Ori’s face, “You _are_ good enough.” It’s a ridiculous notion. He doesn’t need treasure. He feels foolish for not saying anything before, if he could’ve had Ori all along... and when he thinks of it, it only makes sense, all the times Ori chose to sit next to him, lie next to him, tell him stories and lean on his shoulder by the fire...

“You’ll have me, then?” Ori pants, looking so excited that his whole body’s leaning into it, arching against Dwalin. “I want you, Dwalin, I swear, this only gave me the push where I didn’t have the courage. I... I might not have even said your name—I didn’t want to burden you—but the elves said it would be so much easier to have someone with me, and that I should only choose someone I wanted, and they held me until you came...”

Dwalin has to force himself to remind Ori, “They said the same thing to me, that you could alleviate yourself...” Then, mostly at the crestfallen look on Ori’s face, Dwalin hurries to explain, “Not that I wouldn’t want you; I do want you, Ori, and I have for some time. But you don’t have to do this under pressure.” Thinking of the guard’s words, Dwalin hoarsely suggests, “I could simply hold your hand, maintain contact while you...” He can’t quite bring himself to say the rest. 

He doesn’t have to. Ori’s already made his choice. He lunges forward suddenly, his arms tossing around Dwalin’s neck to hold on tight, and his mouth smashes into Dwalin’s. His head tilts, his smaller beard flattening into Dwalin’s, his round nose falling alongside Dwalin’s sharper one. It isn’t chaste, like Dwalin always assumed their first kiss would be. Ori rocks his entire body against Dwalin’s, and his mouth is already open for his tongue to lave across Dwalin’s bottom lip, blunt teeth tugging at the soft flesh. Dwalin opens to gasp, and Ori’s tongue slips inside, short and fat and silk-smooth. It presses against Dwalin’s longer one, all of Ori grinding forward. 

When he breaks apart, Ori keeps their foreheads together, groaning, “Please, take me—there’s... there’s some oil on the nightstand... I...” he breaks off, gasping, and his hands grab at Dwalin’s hair to tug him in for another kiss. Dwalin reaches back, trying to find the oil they’ll need, but he has to end the kiss to look properly and lean over. There’s a little bottle sitting on the table next to the bed that the elves must’ve left. Dwalin’s arms are nearly shaking as he takes it, all riled up with excitement. 

Before Dwalin can open it, Ori’s yanking off his scarf and tossing it aside. He’s already pulled off his sweater before he notices Dwalin gaping—the elves didn’t mention anything about needing to strip. But Ori fiddles at his belt all the same, even as he mumbles, “Oh, it’s just that I’m so hot—you don’t mind...?”

Dwalin shakes his head numbly, then wrestles his own tunic off, the elves having taken his weapon-laden coat and gauntlets. It’s awkward to kick off his boots, because he tries to keep facing and watching Ori as he tugs at his tunic, revealing the creamy skin below, his chest lightly sprinkled with short, reddish-brown hairs. He’s all smooth curves, whereas Dwalin’s broad muscles, darker, thicker hair and brown nipples—Ori’s are slightly pink. When all that’s left on Ori is his trousers, he pushes out of them just as easily, and Dwalin has to stop his own ministrations to stare. Ori has wide, full hips, with his round stomach reaching over top and a smattering of curls below, his plump legs stout and shapely. Once Ori’s shuffled his clothes off the bed, there’s a short moment where he squeezes his thighs together, hiding the thrust off his cock, but then he seems to forget about his own nakedness in favour of seeing Dwalin’s, and he stares as Dwalin hurries to remove his own trousers. They’ve seen each other before, having bathed on the road together, but they’ve never been free to really _look_ , and they’ve never been on a moonlit bed together. Just from looking at Ori’s bare body, Dwalin feels like he might as well have the same fever. All he can think about is _Ori._

He’s lucky Ori still has his head together. Even as Ori’s eyes continuing to rove up and down Dwalin’s body, Ori’s hands reach for the bottle, shakily drawing out the stopper. When he over turns the bottle into his open palm, Dwalin scoops some of the cool, slick liquid up on his fingers. “You take me first,” Ori breathes, shoving one arm back behind himself. He breaks off in a little gasp a second later, leaving Dwalin to imagine just what his fingers are up to. “I always fantasized about it that way.” Dwalin just nods, happy to do anything Ori asks. He sloshes some of the oil onto his own cock accordingly, the thick shaft already rock hard in anticipation. He fumbles with the bottle after, capping in what’s left, then placing it back on the nightstand, just in case the first round doesn’t do it and they need more later. As soon as he’s put it down, Ori draws him back with a little mewl. 

It’s hard to see what Ori’s doing, but Dwalin has the gist—slicking himself up, prying himself open. Dwalin stares down between Ori’s legs, unable to see much beyond the occasional twist and buck, but imagining the rest. He wants to help, wants to turn Ori over and look, but he also doesn’t dare interfere. Ori seems to know what he’s doing, at least, and Dwalin gets a sudden jolt of jealousy when he thinks that maybe the elves coached him. But that doesn’t have to be it—Ori’s sweet, and cute, and could have his own experience, and besides, the elves gave Dwalin _this_ , so he can’t hate them too much. 

It’s difficult to wait, but Dwalin knows he has to. Ori’s knees are touching his, making sure they always have some form of contact, and then his free hand comes to rest on Dwalin’s thigh, stroking lightly and squeezing, like holding the rest of him steady. Dwalin keeps his hands at his sides, because he’s worried that if he lets himself move, he’ll knock Ori down and fuck him too soon. Finally, Ori pulls his hand back and mumbles, “Ready.”

Then, before Dwalin can do anything, Ori’s lunged back into his lap. Dwalin nearly falls over, though there was little point in regaining his balance, because Ori puts a hand on either one of his shoulders and pushes him down. Dwalin’s head lands in the pillows, his naked body laid out in the Elven sheets, Ori’s body nestled atop him. Ori sits on his thighs, his short, fat cock jutting out just beside Dwalin’s. Hungry eyes roaming down Dwalin’s stomach, Ori’s palms slide to Dwalin’s chest, fingers splaying out. He lifts up on his thighs, knees to either side of Dwalin, and he hovers just over Dwalin’s cock, begging, “Fill me.”

Dwalin doesn’t need to be told twice. His hands dart for Ori’s hips, grabbing on so hard that the skin turns pink around him, but Ori’s moan is all delight. He pulls Ori into just the right angle, so that the tip of his cock presses between Ori’s legs and back along his cheeks. Grabbing his ass to hold it open, Dwalin finds the little ring of muscles waiting for him, nicely wet with oil. At first, he just rubs into it, hoping to coax it open even more, but Ori pushes down suddenly, dropping all his weight and taking the head inside. Dwalin _roars_ , his fists tightening in Ori’s hips. Ori’s channel sucks him in, and Ori, moaning and writhing hot enough to turn on any dwarf, just keeps pushing down. He wriggles and grinds his way into taking more and more, never once lifting up to give himself a break. It takes all Dwalin has to keep his hips pinned to the mattress, letting Ori impale himself at his own rate. He rocks forward with his whole body, and Dwalin doesn’t even know where to look—his rolling hips, his belly shining under the moonlight, his chest heaving out with each heavy breath and rock of his hips, his perked nipples bouncing along, his pink face, open mouth and half-lidded eyes. He takes Dwalin all the way to the hilt, and then he slumps forward, kept up only by his sweaty hands on Dwalin’s chest, his head hanging. 

He pants for a few seconds, clawing at air. His channel squeezes around Dwalin’s throbbing cock, the pressure excruciating in its bliss. Ori’s _tight_ , but the ample oil eases the way, and he doesn’t look to be in any pain. After a moment, he nods. 

Then he bounces up, falls back down, and Dwalin nearly chokes in surprise and wonderment. Ori does it again, rocking his body with it, working into his own rhythm. He rides Dwalin like a champion. Somehow, Dwalin thought he’d be quiet and timid, and maybe it’s just the fever of the plant, but Ori’s fierce in the way he bounces up and down on Dwalin’s cock. All Dwalin can do is lie there and hold on, until Ori moans, “Dwalin, _please_ , fuck me—fuck me hard...”

Not one to disobey an order, Dwalin jerks up. His hips slam up into Ori’s, making him bounce even higher in the air, and he squeaks in surprise, dilated eyes going wide. Dwalin doesn’t waste any time doing it again. He holds Ori down at the same time, trying to keep him in place to take the merciless pounding of Dwalin’s cock. He gives Ori several brutal thrusts, and then he means to grab Ori’s bouncing dick, but he doesn’t get the chance. 

Ori _shrieks_ suddenly, grinding down and tossing back his head, while his cock spurts jet after jet of warm, sticky seed. It splatters right up Dwalin’s chest, nearly hitting his chin and clinging around Ori’s own hands, but Ori doesn’t stop, doesn’t even hesitate. He keeps shoving his ass down onto Dwalin and lets his dick bob free in the air, spluttering release. 

Dwalin’s torn between watching Ori’s perfect face contorted in an orgasm and the sight of his bursting cock. It’s over too fast, but to Dwalin’s surprise and delight, it doesn’t slow Ori down at all. His cock doesn’t flag after. It stays just as hard, still bouncing freely, as though nothing every happened. He still takes Dwalin just as fiercely, falling so heavily that his round ass squishes against Dwalin’s thighs each time, making lewd slapping sounds whenever they come in contact. But that’s nothing compared to Ori’s breathless noises, panting, moaning, and whimpering, mixed with needy little attempts at, “ _Dwalin_.”

Dwalin can’t get enough leverage like this. He feeds Ori one last thrust, then abruptly rolls them over, grabbing Ori to spin him safely down into the mattress, Dwalin rolling right on top. He lands above Ori on all fours, Ori’s legs forced open and bent back around Dwalin’s waist, while Dwalin settles an elbow down on either side of him and leans close enough to kiss. With just their noses touching, Dwalin readjusts, makes sure he’s at a good angle, thrusts in, and Ori gasps. Dwalin does it again from another angle, earns a groan, and a third time makes a scream—that’s the one. He pounds into that same spot over and over, now digging Ori into the mattress, and he squeezes one hand between them, scooping up some of Ori’s own seed to use as lubricant. He wraps his fingers around Ori’s shaft and pumps in time with his thrusts, while Ori’s arms tangle around Dwalin’s neck and he draws Dwalin closer for a kiss. Their mouths meet in a messy string of pecks and nibbles, but they can’t kiss for too long at a time, because Ori’s burning up and needs to breathe and can’t seem to get enough of it through his nose. He alternates between nuzzling into the side of Dwalin’s face and nipping at Dwalin’s mouth, and Dwalin gives in to whatever he wants at the time, growing dizzy himself. 

Still, Dwalin’s a warrior with experience and stamina. He impresses himself with how long he lasts, given how utterly intoxicating Ori is, how damn good it feels, and how badly Dwalin’s wanted this. The Elven bed is soft and light and easy to pound Ori into, and it throws Ori back a bit each time. It lets Dwalin go as hard as he can. He pours everything he has into Ori, one relentless thrust after another, until Ori shrieks again and digs into Dwalin’s shoulders so hard that there’ll probably be bruises tomorrow. 

To Dwalin’s shock and amazement, Ori comes again. His cock twitches in Dwalin’s hand and spews another wave of cum that’s quickly sloshed between them by Ori grinding up into him. Dwalin doesn’t let go, just keeps pumping it out, milking Ori through his orgasm, while Ori clings wildly to him. Ori’s ass spasms, clenching down on Dwalin’s shaft, and it makes Dwalin lose track of everything, head thinning. Just as Ori finishes, Dwalin follows. 

He’s never had an orgasm so torrential. But then, he’s never loved anyone as much as he loves Ori. The things they’ve been through together, the time they’ve spent together, could never be compared. A rush of utter adoration joins the stream of lust and ecstasy, exploding in Dwalin’s body to wash out the world, and one for one glorious moment, Dwalin’s entire existence is this: spilling himself inside of Ori.

Ori seems to love it as much as he does. Dwalin collapses, throwing his arms around Ori to hug them tight together while his hips madly pound out his release. He fills Ori with his seed, and Ori only moans happily, like he’s never felt anything better. Dwalin can barely register that Ori’s cock is still hard against his stomach. He’s busy giving Ori everything he has. 

And even when he’s spent, it’s hard to make himself stop. His hips keep going, just barely slowing, puttering out until he’s just shallowly humping Ori’s hips. They’re both so hot and sweaty that it’s difficult to pull apart—they stick together. But it’s too hot for Dwalin to breathe, and when he collapses, he makes sure to do it beside Ori so he won’t crush the poor dwarf under his weight. 

Their hips still stay pinned together, Dwalin still inside, and even though the pressure’s now almost painful against his wilting cock, Dwalin can’t seem to move. It takes Ori to lift his hips and pull off, shimmying out. 

Dwalin looks over his shoulder, foggy with the remains of probably the most intense sex of his life. But Ori still looks energetic, and when he bends down to peck Dwalin’s cheek, Dwalin groans. 

“That was wonderful,” Ori sighs, his hands running all over Dwalin’s drenched back. “I knew you would be, of course...” He doesn’t add the ‘but,’ though Dwalin still hears it. Ori’s hand dips down his spine to cup his taut rear, and Dwalin spreads his legs. 

He’s starting to wonder just how long the plant’s going to drive Ori to go, but no matter what, after that thrill ride, Dwalin knows he’ll need time to recover. Which only leaves it the other way around, and he wags his ass tiredly, muttering, “If you want more, lad, I’m afraid you’ll have to do all the work for it.”

Ori looks down at his ass with wide eyes. Maybe he hadn’t thought of it, or maybe he wouldn’t have thought he’d be allowed. Or maybe he’s just as excited as Dwalin is. But a heartbeat later, Ori’s scrambling across the bed to get the oil again. He dumps the entire rest of the vial over the small of Dwalin’s back, and before Dwalin’s even finished yelping at the cool ooze, Ori’s sloshing it down between his cheeks. They’re pried open with both hands, then Ori adjusts, spreading the fingers of one hand to keep Dwalin’s cheeks apart, and the other hand drags the liquid down the middle. Dwalin can’t see much from his angle, but he can feel everything, and he keeps trying to strain over his shoulder, even if he doesn’t have the energy to properly sit up. 

He wouldn’t have the room to, either. As soon as Ori finds Dwalin’s hole, he starts eagerly rubbing it, drawing one stubby finger over it, and then he lifts a leg to straddle the back of Dwalin’s thighs. A bit of teasing, and he manages to push one blunt fingertip past Dwalin’s furrowed brim. Dwalin grunts but doesn’t protest, and Ori pulls out to gather more oil. As he nudges his finger back inside, he moans, “You’re _amazing_ Dwalin, so handsome, so good to me...”

“You’re no bore yourself,” Dwalin retorts. He thinks of saying more, but that dies out when Ori gets in to the knuckle and starts to curl his finger. He’s oiled up and careful enough to keep it from hurting, but it’s still a strange feeling that Dwalin hasn’t had in a long time. His muscles are loose in the afterglow, and he knows how to keep breathing and keep himself relaxed. Ori seems torn between eagerly spearing Dwalin open and lingering to enjoy himself. By the time he adds a second finger, Dwalin has enough energy to lift his ass against Ori’s touch. Ori croons happily, pushing two digits in to scissor open. 

He stretches Dwalin far longer than he needs to. Dwalin lets it go on, mainly using the time to regain himself and hoping he’ll get hard again, even though he’s older and doesn’t have any special fever to drive his body on. But he can feel Ori squirming against him, making those wanting sounds here and there, and finally, Dwalin admits, “That’s enough, lad. You shouldn’t have much trouble getting in.”

Ori snaps to life. His fingers retract immediately, dragging another grunt from Dwalin’s lips, and he feels the moist shaft of Ori’s cock between his cheeks. For a moment, Ori loses himself in thrusting against Dwalin’s ass, gasping delightedly as he slides along the tight crack. Dwalin thinks he might finish himself from that alone, but then Ori regains himself enough to press his tip to Dwalin’s stretched hole. 

A little roll of his hips, and he pops inside—Dwalin gasps, fighting the urge to bury his face in the pillows. He gets all of Ori’s noises; Ori should get his. Ori delivers another small thrust, then another, sinking deeper each time, and Dwalin’s teeth grit, his channel forced to stretch open. It doesn’t quite hurt, but it would if Ori were much bigger or much drier. He’s clearly too far gone to control himself much or wait, or maybe he just doesn’t know that he should. Either way, Dwalin takes it, one quick thrust at a time, until Ori’s pressed deep inside him. He can tell from the feel of Ori’s ripe balls against his ass and the deep-seated moan that slithers out of Ori’s throat.

Best of all is Ori lying down atop him, not even bothering to stay up on hands or elbows. Ori simply flattens along his back, arms reaching to wrap around Dwalin’s thick body. He’s heavy, but nothing Dwalin can’t handle. Ori nuzzles his face into the back of Dwalin’s head, making contented noises, while his hips grind into position. 

Then he sets into sharp, staccato thrusts, hard but not as ruthless as Dwalin’s were. Certainly faster. Ori humps him like an animal trying to breed a mate, and Dwalin only spreads his legs wider to accommodate, trying to lift his ass back into each thrusts. Ori doesn’t hit the right angle every time, but when he does, it’s worth all the others, setting off a spark of pleasure that ricochets all the way up Dwalin’s spine. He’s too boneless and heady to instruct Ori to stick to the right spot. Somehow, between the blunt stab of Ori’s cock, the wandering of Ori’s hands along his sides and stomach, and the prickle of warm lips against the back of his neck, Dwalin gets hard again. He finds himself rutting shallowly against the mattress with each thrust, squirming beneath his little Ori and thrusting up and down to get as much friction as possible. Ori drives most of it, riding Dwalin perfectly. 

It’s good, _so_ good, but even better when Ori starts talking to him, moaning in between thrusts giddy things like, “Dwalin, you feel so good around me,” and, “Dwalin, love you _so_ much.” Ori’s hot mouth makes wet circles along Dwalin’s shoulders, and he begs in desperation, “You’ll be mine after, won’t you? When I just want instead of need you? You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course,” Dwalin groans, too busy taking each thrust to be very eloquent. With his head turned in the pillows, his neck is growing sore, but the pain is so dull compared to the sharpness of the pleasure. He licks his lips and tries to explain, “Want you, too, always want you—nothing’ll tear us apart—”

Ori whimpers and lifts to nuzzle his face against Dwalin’s cheek. He’s shorter, so it drags his cock a little out of Dwalin’s ass, but Dwalin arches to accommodate, thrusting himself back onto it. Ori mumbles something completely incoherent, and soon his whines are in no language at all, the only thing Dwalin understands through the raunchy noises being: “ _Dwalin_ ,” over and over.

This time, Dwalin comes first. It’s a shallow orgasm, with not enough seed to do much, but he spills himself against the covers all the same. Ori keeps pounding into him through it, driving out each spurt of Dwalin’s seed. He can feel his hips shaking from it, trembling against Ori. Dwalin doesn’t quite scream, but he does cry out, voice breaking in bliss. Ori squeezes Dwalin harder around the middle, cutting off his air but intensifying their connection, and if Dwalin weren’t already lying down, he’d definitely collapse.

Ori isn’t far behind. A few more harried thrusts, and he comes with a languid moan, his seed sloshing into Dwalin’s channel. It’s a welcome sensation, even satiated as he is, and Dwalin clenches around Ori helpfully, milking it all out. This load seems as strong as the others, pumping Dwalin full, until he can feel it leaking out down his ass, dribbling along his thighs and the backs of his balls. Ori’s in a constant stream of shaken noises, his body trembling almost violently.

Then he detangles his arms from Dwalin’s body, lays them on either side in the sheets, and pushes up enough for his cock to slip out of Dwalin’s body. When he settles down afterwards, still lying fully atop Dwalin, his shaft doesn’t feel quite so hard. 

For a little while, neither says a word. Ori was very vocal during sex, but now he just seems to be panting and trying to recover. He stills squirms against Dwalin’s back, and he nuzzles against Dwalin here and there, the tickle of his short beard occasionally making Dwalin shift. Finally, he rolls off. 

He clings to Dwalin’s side, taking Dwalin’s arms in both of his, his face right next to Dwalin’s. He’s not as red as he was before, though he does look thoroughly exhausted. He whispers quietly, like it’s some special, intimate secret, “Did you mean it?”

Dwalin’s not sure which of his many promises ‘it’ refers to, but it doesn’t matter. He grunts, “’Meant all of it.”

Ori beams like the sun, leaning forward to peck Dwalin’s nose. It’s the most chaste he’s been since they started. 

He mumbles sheepishly, “I feel a little better now. Not all... hot and like I _need_ touch. But I’m sleepy.” Dwalin almost snorts, because he thinks it’s a wonder Ori’s still conscious at all, after coming three times like that. He shifts his arm out of Ori’s grasp so he can run his fingers back through Ori’s hair, gently petting his head. Ori leans into it, like he’d tie himself to Dwalin if he could. They’re quiet a little more, and then Ori mutters thoughtfully, “My butt’s kinda sore—is yours?”

Feeling his face flush, Dwalin grumbles, “A little,” but follows it up with a quick, “’was worth it.” He makes a mental note to be gentler next time, but for that to work, Ori can’t ride him so wildly.

Dwalin could fall asleep right here and sleep like a baby. He doesn’t care if it’s an Elven bed in an Elven stronghold—he has Ori; he’s happy. But too soon, there’s a tentative knock on the door. 

Dwalin sits up immediately, but Ori calls, blushing again, “Just a minute!” Climbing to the edge of the bed, he reaches over to retrieve his sweater and Dwalin’s tunic. For that brief moment, their bodies are separated and Ori doesn’t seem to be in pain, so Dwalin assumes the fever’s passed. He’s tossed his clothes and pulls into them, tired and sticky but not willing to go naked in front of elves. As soon as Ori’s in his sweater, which is long enough to cover down his thighs, he slips off the bed. He limps a little as he walks towards the doors, which makes Dwalin feel a tinge of guilt, even though Ori returned the favour. Ori opens one door just a crack, peers out and mumbles awkwardly, “Finished.”

“You feel better?” the captain of the guard’s voice asks. At Ori’s nod, she says, “That is good. But I’m afraid the leader of your company still refuses to make peace, and thus you are still prisoners.”

Now passably dressed, Dwalin clambers off the bed to storm over, wrenching the door wider so he can say over Ori’s head, “You won’t take him from me again!”

“We would not,” the elf replies, looking startled, either at his presence or his vehemence. “After such a traumatic experience, it would be cruel to separate you. Unless this is what you desire.”

Ori quickly says, “No, I’d like to stay with Dwalin, please.” He doesn’t seem particularly traumatized, but neither of them says anything over it, just in case it separates them. 

Before they leave, there are a few more things to grab—belts, scarves, and boots. As Dwalin puts himself back together, he wishes for a knife stored somewhere, but even with Ori, he knows he couldn’t run and abandon Thorin and Balin and all the others. It’s still difficult to get in line behind the elves again and be escorted down the halls, back to the dungeon. Ori holds his hand the whole way.

They’re ushered back into Dwalin’s cell and locked away, though the tiny space doesn’t seem nearly so horrible with two. When Dwalin first sits down, he winces, the hardness strange after the softness of the Elven bed. But then Ori settles down in his lap, and it’s worth it. Even with the fever gone and as tired as he is, Ori’s very affectionate. Dwalin’s never been particularly cuddly, but Ori makes it easy. Ori fits perfectly in his arms, and he can’t help but hold Ori close, pet his back and kiss his forehead, snuggling joyously together. At first, Ori seems embarrassed, and he mutters apologies here and there, but eventually, Dwalin soothes it out of him. 

Then he simply leans against Dwalin’s chest to fall peacefully asleep, and Dwalin kisses his cheek, promising better days.


End file.
